Fueled by over-the-counter medication

I am currently under the effect of a muscle relaxant which is dulling my brain in addition to unknotting my various knots. You’re in for some real blog gold, people. (And ‘The tourist’ by radiohead is not helping sharpen my focus. So slow and dreamy. Out it goes.)

First off, I have added a ‘donate’ button to the sidebar over yonder. I hemmed and hawed about doing this for a while. I don’t want to give you, my loyal readers, the sense that You are obligated to throw money my way, but there may be occasions when someone will read a post and think ‘I want to reward that poor doped up fool’. so now you have a vehicle to do so. If it matters, any money that comes in will be going directly to paying for the little dude’s preschool and will not be spent on golden underpants for myself.

Next up, moustaches! yesterday was ‘have sex with a guy with a moustache day’ so I hope you ladies did your part. If circumstances prevented your charitable work, please get around to it whenever you can. Every little bit helps. It’s for a good cause, so ignore the pricklyness and chip in.

Medical (dental?) update: Max is recovering nicely from his mouth-first landing on the arm of the couch. He’s still uncomfortable biting with those teeth, but he can chew normally if those two front bottom teeth stay out of the mix. He should be right as rain by the end of the weekend. My mouth devil has calmed down and is giving me very little grief right now. I’m also trying to flush my sinuses out with warm water, to hedge my bets and get things moving along. So far I’ve had a bucket of post-nasal drip mucus slide down my throat today, which made me happy as it was a sign of some kind of change and progress. I am a weird fellow.

Chaos! Frustration! Out of sequence posting!

It’s dental calamity day! In addition to my achy companion ‘the hard to pinpoint and fix’ toothache, my daring young man went mouth first into the arm of the couch. Padded  arm? Thin padding, my friend. Net result, mouth full of blood, saliva, and half-chewed steak (because his acrobatics were a mid-meal enterprise) and 2 wobbly teeth. The bleeding was under control pretty quickly, and he was calmed down and enjoying some Little Einsteins within a half hour. If we’re lucky, he’ll wake up tomorrow with almost no after effects and neither of the teeth will turn grey and fall out. Here’s hoping.

Of course, the stress of dealing with the little dude’s unfortunate mishap has derailed any shreds of  creative  momentum that  I may have had. I still have the heightened emotional state and I don’t think I can easily send it packing. I feel much like Max when he’s so tired that even picking a flavour of yogurt sends him into a wailing sadness of indecision. There’s a tiny pocket of  guilt too. Not because I didn’t stop him from jumping (he moves quick like a spider monkey), but because part of me is glad that he finally had a negative consequence to his daredevil activities. He’s led a charmed life when it comes to his rash gymnastics, and the grumpy old man in my head thinks this’ll teach him to be more careful. Boo to you, imaginary old man. I want my pride and joy to be fit, healthy and happy.

On a technical note, today’s fiction chapter will be posted tomorrow when it will be hot off the presses (or so I tell myself). One other technical note: my laptop has several semi-broken keys, including the space  bar. If you wonder why I use  so  many double spaces, wonder no more. Or buy me a new laptop.

Imminent Independence

We went to preschool today for a visit, so that I could get a look at the place and see how max would handle it. It was a kind of dress rehearsal. And I liked what I saw so we’re going to start pre-school for real next week. My little dude will be on his own and out of my line of sight for 2 mornings a week, Tuesday and Thursday from 9 to 11:30.

The idea of preschool used to fill me with a weepy fearfulness. Even leaving him at the childminding facilities at the gym was too much for me to bear the few times we tried it. I’m sure every parent hates leaving their crying child, and given my proclivity for anticipatory anxiety, it wasn’t going to happen.

The big difference now is that I know other people can reason with him the same way I can, and he’s shown a lot of interest in socializing with other kids and doing other things. On some level, I think I’m boring him. I don’t take it personally, I get bored with our routine too.  He’s ready to play with other kids, and learn from other adults.

There is a small part of me that is appalled at the ‘conformity practice’ he’s going to get, like sitting quietly when you’re told and following the instructions of authority figures, but that is the secret hippie buried deep inside of me. I don’t know where it came from and I want it to shut up. As much as I want my boy to be a free-thinker and individual, he will not always be able to call his own shots. Life will require him to get in line and do his homework assignments, it’s just the cost of doing business.